Trunks' Mother
by RedSmileyFace
Summary: King Vegeta is the single parent, Prince Trunks is the more then accepted heir to Vegeta-Sei despite his heritage, and Bulma is the mother who was never around. Trunks finally asks about her, and Vegeta answers. Character death, Alternate Universe. COMPLETE
1. Trunks' Mother

**Author's Notes: Hello! Here's my first DBZ story! (Though not my first story, in general) And it's sad. oops. Next one (if there is one) will be happier. I hope... **

**I've recently got the DBZ bug, and am seriously marathoning the show and reading like crazy... and a bunch of "whats" and "what ifs" popped up, most of them here in tiny details that make up the whole. I hope it is enjoyed! please review! :D**

**Disclaimer: DBZ and Star Trek (tiny reference) are not owned by little ol' me. **

**Beta'd by Vegeta'sNo.1 (Thanks!)**

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Reference:

Vegeta and Bulma: mid 60s

Trunks: early 30s

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"Can you tell me about my mother?"

King Vegeta visibly tensed, unprepared for the question. True, he had never held anything from his son, nor had he any plans of doing so. However, he had never told his heir about the woman who had borne him, or of his own abiding love for her; also with no plans to do so.

Sighing, forgetting about what they had previously been talking about, forgetting about matters of state that really should be dealt with, he turned towards his lavender haired heir, and asked, "What brought this about, Trunks?"

The boy shifted, no doubt embarrassed in one form or another, as he should be. Vegeta had never wanted nor needed to speak of the woman to her son; such was Saiyan culture: it valued strength above all else, including family, feelings, and what blood may or may not flow through the prince's veins. But that was just it: the blood of a weakling _human _flowed through Trunks; perhaps Vegeta should have expected this. The boy obviously favored his mother more than Vegeta was prepared for.

He pinched his nose as he heard Trunks explanation. "Kakarot," he spoke, and Vegeta felt his frustrations mount, "was wiping his eyes the other day, and when I asked why, he told me a very good friend of his died recently. I wanted to know more about his good friend, I didn't know he had any, so I asked 'who?' Kakarot told me his friend was my mother, but he would not elaborate. If she was the best friend of such a powerful general, then why wasn't she here, father? Why had she not made herself known to me?"

Vegeta sighed, still pinching his nose, gathering his thoughts on how to proceed. He had no experience in such matters, he hadn't even asked about his own mother till after Bulma became one. (His own mother had been an elite warrior who had stayed on the front lines, eventually dying in battle, refusing the crown once, and never asked again; such was the short, but heated, affair between his own parents.) It was rare for sentimentality to make its way in Saiyan family life, even between those who professed something more then just friendship. It was rarer still for family units to stay together, as Bulma had told Vegeta humans did.

Mating was for life, but that did not tie anyone together unnecessarily. If a Saiyan found a mate, and if beyond that declared _love _in foolishness, they could still lead a full and happy life alone, out doing whatever they pleased, as was the case between Vegeta's highest ranking general and his rarely seen wife: Kakarot and Chi Chi. Only when "amorous", or rather "carnal", feelings arose, did both parties naturally fall in together, and no _feelings _were discussed or even needed, beyond the superficial. Afterwards, a distance was built up again, whether mental or physical.

That he had explained to Bulma, multiple times, and she had begrudgingly accepted. After all he had, in return, begrudgingly _talked _to her about his _feelings_. More than once, he shuddered to recall.

He never regretted it, though, not once.

Looking at Trunks as he awaited an answer, Vegeta saw that Trunks did not so much wish that his mother, Bulma, had always been around, but rather he expressed the human wish to at least know who his mother had been. If that was all this question was, Vegeta mused, perhaps he could indulge the boy in such foolish sentiments. But nothing more.

"You know you are not a full blooded Saiyan, right boy?" He asked, and received a nod in return. "Have you figured out which species your mother was?"

Trunks is a smart boy; smart by Saiyan standards at least, perhaps even by human standards though Vegeta had never bothered to find out. Trunks nodded, "I have come to the conclusion that it must be one of our more powerful allies. Maybe the Vulcans, or the Romulans, as both at least share our looks. Their domains are far enough away, and their mentalities also mirror ours, at least to a certain extent. With any other species, I doubt I would be as strong as I am, or as independent, and would naturally expected more from you as a father."

Vegeta smirked, for once having the upper hand in their talks. He would always dominate in spars, but Trunks usually had a way of keeping abreast of any debate, argument, or meeting he was a part of, sometimes surprising Vegeta with his opinions or views. Now however, Trunks was wrong. Vegeta would remember this for a later occasion, but for now…

"Genetics are a funny thing," He lectured, "Even among Saiyans, having strong parents does not necessarily mean strong children, or weak parents begetting weak children. Inter-species relations are even more complicated. Or so your mother once explained to me. She was a scientist, you see, strong of mind, but terribly weak of body."

Trunks mouth opened. Not in shock, but wonder. He had assumed otherwise, especially considering his father's pride in strength.

Vegeta continued, "Saiyans value strength above all else it is true, but every now and then other factors come into play. Kakarot, for example, was lured by his mate's cooking skills. As for me, I was drawn to your mother's absurd beauty, fearless attitude, and sharp brain. Every Saiyan fears me, adores me, defers to me; I guess it was only natural I desired something different, some_one _different. Such as your... human mother."

This time there was an audible gasp from Trunks. Vegeta allowed the news to sink in, going so far as to clasp Trunks shoulder in understanding. He himself had been shocked more than once from the intensity of feelings that arose in him over a puny, weak, loud, annoying _human. _There is no surprise now as he feels the familiar ache in his chest over his lost woman.

He and Trunks had been standing in his solar, previously talking over agreements within the Planet Trade Organization, and now Trunks, shocked, stumbled away and sat down on a chaise. Releasing Trunks shoulder, Vegeta walked towards the windows that overlooked the red desert behind the palace walls. Tilting his head up, he looked at the stars, searching and finding the small yellow star that was the sun of Earth, and smiled. Thirty years it had been since Bulma had been to Planet Vegeta, since she had held baby Trunks in her arms, since the science wing had been destroyed.

Planet Vegeta was a wonderful place to live, full of dangers, wars, fights, staged arenas and spur of the moment clashes. Bulma left because their little experiment of integrating science within the capital had failed, and because the Saiyans, as a whole, could not accept long-term residents that were not strong. Bulma needed 26-hour protection, and she had failed to get used to it, even after five skirmishes involving her, two almost ending her life.

He frowned, recalling his own journey to Earth, during a time his father still reigned and he had a chance to reside elsewhere. His own restlessness during his stay on the peaceful mud ball that was full of frivolities and weakness cursed his time there. He lasted there less than Bulma lasted on his own planet; she was stronger than him where it counted.

He placed his forehead on the glass, closing his eyes and remembering her smile as she boarded the spaceship going to Earth; tremulous, fake, but positive. She would not even leave him without smiling. Ten glorious years they spent together, on one planet or another, before separating peacefully and without regrets.

Trunks cleared his throat and asked with a tremble in his voice, "Did she not... like me?"

Vegeta frowned further at that. He wondered if Trunks was OK with an absent parent before only because he assumed his mother was strong, of a race that showcased love within defined, if questionable, parameters. Now knowing that his mother was of a race that accepted, nay _flaunted_, relationships and feelings, Trunks realized that his own needs were sorely neglected.

Turning around, he glared at Trunks, "What a pitiful excuse for a Saiyan you are!" He walked up to Trunks again and backhanded him, sending him sprawling off the chaise and on to the floor. "You are the crowned prince of Vegeta, my son and heir. You are the strongest prince, after me, _ever_ recorded in the history of our family! You lack for nothing, you yearn for nothing, your future is secured, rare by Saiyan standards, and yet you question if your mother 'liked' you? No, my son, she did not 'like' you." He stopped and stewed for a moment, allowing Trunks to feel anguish before soothing the burn. "She loved you." He finally whispered, daring the truth to be known beyond the four walls.

Trunks sharply looked at Vegeta, hardly believing that the four-letter word escaped his father's lips. "That... that makes no sense!"

"Hmph." Vegeta grunts, turning away from his son. "I guess I should expect nothing less from a human hybrid, not understanding the gift of sacrifice." He walked to the desk, opening a drawer and taking out a framed picture. He stared at the family in the picture, fingering the cheek of the young woman who no longer existed, feeling the ache again as he saw her holding a little two year old boy within her lap as she herself sat in her taciturn husband's lap. Clearing his throat and mind, he thrust the frame towards his son. "Here," he states, "here is a photo of your mother, holding you."

He watches Trunks take the frame gingerly, obviously reverent in the moment of finally seeing his mother, and gaze in awe at the love displayed carelessly in the photo. Vegeta frowned, "She gave you what any mother who loves her children would give, her own life. Not in the physical sense, but in the fact that she wanted you to be fully committed to a way of life, to never question who or what you are."

Trunks did not stop looking at the photo, but Vegeta knew he was listening. "Vegeta may not need both a queen and king to rule, and never has for over 500 years, but we do need an heir. You have a stable life here, but while on Earth, who knows? Perhaps it would be stable as well, or even better; but your mother knew what Saiyans are like, and she wanted you to have the best Saiyan life possible. Without the burden of jumping back and forth between... strained existences. You would not have had such a chance to be so strong, so widely regarded, so revered, had you stayed on Earth. Or so she believed.

"She also believed..." Here Vegeta took a moment to gather his thoughts. He waited so long to speak again, that Trunks looked up to him again. Tears, traitorous things, leaked out before he started again, "... that I needed something of ours to keep me sane."

Tears started falling down Trunks own cheeks as well. Vegeta scoffed, turning away as his son shed emotion _yet again_ over some triviality. He stiffened when Trunks asked his next question though. "What about her? What kept her sane? Why couldn't you two be closer, at least on the same planet?"

Vegeta stared at the bookshelves across the room, seeing but not. "Bulma was strong where it mattered. But she also had a family back on Earth, much more worthy than the one here that I had with my father. She had a support system, friends… more than I could count or would care to recall. Humans are good like that, when your _feelings _are hurt, they have your back, as much as Saiyans have your physical back.

"I couldn't stand it, Trunks. It was so, fucking... peaceful. She couldn't stand it here, either, for the opposite reason." He looked at Trunks then, trying to convey pride in his voice "She was stronger than I am, son, and I see her resilience and persistence in everything you do. She would have stayed here, and thrived, had there been no other choice." He looked away again, "But time and health are two very unforgiving things."

He cleared his throat one more time, and finished with a true shocker; "She has your sister, as well."

The frame is dropped to the floor. Thankfully, it does not break. Clarifying the situation before Trunks could ask questions, Vegeta continued. "Your sister is ten years your junior, and is named Bra. Bulma could not sacrifice a second time. Though from what I hear, Bra is more than happy, spoiled, and quite taken with her life on Earth... I knew her less then your mother has known you... I... have never met her."

"... You've seen my mother since she left here?"

Picking up the frame from the floor, Vegeta nodded, saying, "Regularly. You will have a chance to meet Bra. I will make it so. Now leave me... we'll talk again tomorrow."

Trunks lingered though, obviously not ready to stop talking, or to learn of his heritage, but realized the king had issues more demanding of his time, and so was done sharing for now. The prince nodded and left the room, enough on his mind to content him, for now anyway.

Vegeta slumped back into his desk chair, frowning at memories evoked by the photo he still held. Tilting his head towards the bookshelves, he asked nonchalantly, "How long have you been there?"

Chuckling, Kakarot came out from behind the removable shelves, and knelt before his king. "Since you took the frame out of the desk."

"Hm."

"Are you ready, Vegeta?"

Growling, Vegeta stood from behind the desk, "I should know better than to expect proper respect from you." he muttered, causing Kakarot to laugh. "Yes! Yes, I am ready." The monarch told his subject.

The two grabbed hands as if to shake, and do not let go while Kakarot uses one of his powers, spreading a white light visible to no one, and then blink out of existence.

Many trillions of miles away, on a little mud ball of a peaceful planet, in a large house that doubled as a corporate headquarters, they blinked into existence.

Quietly, they strode outside and followed Ki signatures towards the burial site. Respectfully, Kakarot stood behind Vegeta as both men stood guard and vigil to Bulma Briefs' grave.


	2. Trunks' 10th Birthday

**THIS CHAPTER IS RATED "M"! **

**For a while, the whole story was rated "M", but I feel, as a whole, it's "T", with the exception of one scene in this chapter which I won't take out, since I feel it fits. I don't want to falsely advertise that it's a smutty or gorey story (because it's not, it's more plot than otherwise), but I won't hide it either. I will mark the steamy scene for those who wish to skip it. This comes with the final edits of Oct. 2015.**

**Vegeta'sNo.1 helped to edit this chapter (and story as a whole). Thank you!**

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Reference: This chapter happens roughly twenty years before the previous chapter, and has a sex scene.

Vegeta and Bulma: mid 40s

Trunks: 10

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**HAPPY BIRTHDAY TRUNKS**

Bulma laid on her side in bed in her silk pajama set, caressing her newly swelling stomach underneath the camisole, wishing sleep would hurry up. But of course, her busy mind would not allow such a thing.

It had been four months since she had last seen the father of her babies, and two months since she sent an interstellar message across the galaxy informing him of their impending second child. She wonders if he received the message yet; she wonders what he will think, how he will react, what he will expect of her, of it. The first time he found out he would be a father went less then spectacularly, and, being honest with herself, they are not in much of a better situation now then they were nine years ago, a time where they were at least living together.

She sniffled, unable to contain her despair over losing her son, their firstborn child. It had been her choice, and knew it was for the best, but still she bemoaned the fact that she would never get the chance again to hold him, to teach him, to watch him grow and become his own man. Hearing about him second hand was a balm, but it was not the same thing as _being _there for him. Would the same happen for her next child? Would Vegeta expect it so?

Vegeta had not wanted her go, but he had respected her decision to leave. And though he had at first fought with her about whether Trunks should stay with her or him, in the end he had listened to her reasoning and kept Trunks as his heir, and as a memento of her.

From what she had gathered every time Vegeta came back to her and complained about _her brat_, he was more then secretly happy with Trunks being on Planet Vegeta. Now knowing what it is to have a son near at all times, would Vegeta not want the next child to be around as well? She whimpers in the dark, hugging her baby bump harder, not knowing how she could go through it a second time. Now in her mid-fourties, the idea of suffering the loss of another precious piece of her heart felt insurmountable. For already the little bundle growing inside her had become a joy, and an exhilaration.

Both pregnancies came with all the normal symptoms: vomiting, hot flashes, swelling ankles, and so on. But, physical discomforts aside, she found herself daydreaming about child rearing, decorating its room, singing lullabies, walking the pram through the park, and so on. She remembered the joy of having Trunks around for two or so years, and eagerly waited having that again. But she feared the day her new baby might be taken from her, and how much worse that would be the second time around.

Perhaps she could relocate again to Planet Vegeta? After all, her human friend ChiChi had managed there, and her best friend, the Saiyan Goku, had advanced to one of Vegeta's top generals... perhaps it would be better this time around?

Planet Vegeta is rich in culture after all, both of their own and procured from their space travels. It was not a barren planet devoid of history or architecture; it was rather a nice place to visit once and a while, as a tour stop or a vacation spot.

Earth might be more technologically gifted now, but Saiyans had been traveling the stars long before Humans had first piloted their own skies, let alone space; it reflected in the Saiyan decor. Some technology and architecture they had pirated outright, before the Age of Reason hit their race, some centuries before. Then something reminiscent of Yin Yang, and Sun Tzu's the "Art of War", made its way into their livelihood. Suddenly, Saiyans incorporated things like "honor", "courage", and, possibly the most important but most subtle, "compassion", into their way of combating.

Latter centuries chronicled the Saiyans as a sort of space police, for lack of finer wording, and they had even destroyed a mighty dynasty of brutal overlords, ones Earth never had the displeasure of knowing. The Saiyans, Bulma had learned, had been key to turning a Trade Organization from a brutal dictatorship to something that actually resembled its title. Peace in the galaxy was in thanks due to the warrior race.

Though the Saiyans are still brutal, they found enough enemies to focus their intense energies against. If they were not fighting an enemy, they fought each other in mostly friendly matches. Daily, hourly, each and every citizen "training" to be better, stronger, faster; there were no safeties in place and many fights ended up with one or both participants hospitalized.

Bulma might shudder against their brutality, but was equally awed by how it seemingly worked against all odds with being a race that was proud to be allies with half the universe. And she could not deny admiring their way of integrating what they liked of other worlds into their own old one.

One could not take the beauty without the rough, and though Bulma had given life on Vegeta a fair amount of time, she could not stay, nor could she ever she felt.

She shudders here and now, crying some more, despondent over her weakness, guilty over her disgust with the beings her husband and mate came from, unable to consider living there for more then a minute before she cowered in fear over all the fighting, all the pain that occurred daily.

"Why are you crying, woman?" A rough voice asked somewhere in her dark room.

Gasping, sitting up on the bed, she looks around her dark room as if she could suddenly see within the inky depths. "Vegeta?" she whispers, furiously wiping at her eyes.

"Woman." He says, and she looks in the direction his soft voice sounded. She smiles for him, knowing he can see through the darkness, and she does not bother to turn on a lamp. She pats the bed, inviting both her lover and the cause of her sorrow, to join her.

"Did you get my message?" She asks him, enjoying his heat as he sits beside her.

"No." He answered, "I came for entirely different reasons, but..." and she feels a warm hand lay upon her stomach, "I can see what ails you. Is it mine?"

She slaps him. He lets her. "Good." He replies, before moving in to kiss her neck.

"Wait. Vegeta!" she scoffs, pushing against his chest, realizing in the back of her mind he wore his full royal Saiyan regalia, and stubbornly refused to feel self-conscious in her pj's, "You ask something so stupidly insulting, and you think I'm gonna let you easily slide?"

A long suffering sigh is sounded as the man leans away from her. She can easily "see" him rolling his eyes as well. "I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear? You're human, and as much as I do trust you, I can't help but be wary. Human-Sayian hybrids don't give off as potent a ki as Sayian babies do, and humans do not feel the pull of the mating bite..." He brings a hand to caress her cheek. "It was a knee jerk question."

"'Jerk' indeed." Bulma huffs, and then sighs gently, "You worry about me as much as I worry about you, huh?"

"I would never say as much." Vegeta scoffs.

"Of course not." She grabs his hand that caresses her cheek, and kisses his wrist.

"I already had to deal with your annoying son today; I guess that human saying really does apply. How does it go? 'When it rains, it pours'?"

Chuckling, Bulma leaned against his side, his hand on her cheek moving around her shoulders. "And how has Trunks gotten under your skin today, my king?"

There is a pause while Vegeta takes a breath. Then; "A loyal soldier passed away with honors today. You remember General Nappa?" Bulma nodded against his shoulder, and Vegeta continued. "He trained alongside my father, he guarded me, and has finished an illustrious career training your brat. I could not be more proud to have known a man, and to guard his death. The man deserves no less. Just yesterday, I was sharing jokes with Kakarot and Raditz about him, especially the more dirty jokes that Nappa himself liked to share."

Bulma shook her head, "The man was nice enough in my presence, but I do have to wonder at your choice to appoint him Turnks' sensei."

"Hn." Vegeta contemplated. "You might be right. Trunks obviously knows more one-liners then he does one-two knockouts. Perhaps I should not have given Nappa an honor guard for his burial..."

Vegeta falls into silence. Bulma looks up to him in the dark, thinking she can finally see a faint outline of his profile looking off into the distance. She runs a hand up his chest, falling against his heart, feeling its steady beat even through the armor. "How did Trunks take his death?"

"Not well. The boy bawled, made a fool out of himself in front of an entire assembly of Saiyan elite."

"He can't help himself; he's only nine, Vegeta, and half human. We cry when we remember someone fondly who has died."

Vegeta remained silent.

"Vegeta?"

When he still does not reply, Bulma moves her hand up from his chest, framing his jawline, her thumb caressing his cheek, finding wetness there. "Oh, my love." She whispers. She moves to her knees, leaning closer to his face in the dark and kisses him. First his brow, furrowed in the dark, then she traces his nose with hers, then lands on his chapped lips.

**Begin Rated "M" Scene**

He eagerly returns the kiss, going so far as to grab her waist and tug her over his lap. Moaning, she brings her hands around his shoulders, and grinds against his arousal. His hands flutter underneath her tank top, gliding up her sides to trace her breasts. She rewards him with a moan has he kneads them, pulls at them, runs calloused fingers over her sensitive nipples.

They pause from kissing as her shirt is lifted off from her, then he resumes his kisses, starting at her neck, and trailing down to her breasts. She holds him to her, fingers threaded through his hair, loving the feel of his warm body armor against hers. She moans at the sensations, the love that flows through her for him, the lust that grows with ever kiss he gives.

Suddenly, she is on her back, his hands peeling her pajama shorts off. "This is hardly fair," She demurs, "You have not taken anything off yet."

"Yet." He points out. She laughs when she hears his chest plate fall to the ground, then he chuckles when she sputters indignantly as his royal blue shirt hits her face.

"God, you smell!" She comments, removing the sweaty, smelly offender from her face.

"We can take a shower later." Vegeta suggests lustily, lowering his now naked self against her. They kiss again, their gaiety forgotten amidst hands fondling each other.

He breaks their kiss, moaning against her lips as she handles his cock with precision. "How can you be wetter then last time, woman?" He asks, fingers thrusting in her snatch to test her readiness. She had been ready since he arrived.

"I'm pregnant, in case you forgot." She breaks off to moan, then "You must have also forgotten how lustily human women ache during pregnancy."

Chuckling against her neck, Vegeta replied, "How could I forget the best sex we ever had was when the brat was still inside you?"

"How indeed?" She wonders, aligning him to enter her, "I think you need a refresher course."

He hissed upon entering her, "Yessss." He grabs a leg to wrap around his waist, his other hand holding himself over her. She cannot see his gaze still, but she feels the heat of it as he starts a leisurely pace. She wraps her other leg around him as well, arching up and urging him to go faster.

"Look at me." He growls, and she opens her eyes, unaware she had closed them. She looks vaguely to where he might be, spurred on by her nearly invisible lover. His thrusts grow harsher, faster, and unapologetic. His hand moves from her leg, up along her body, clasping her neck lightly, squeezing imperceptibly with every thrust.

"Vegeta!" She whimpers, fast reaching her peak.

Growling, Vegeta smashes against her brutally, squeezes her a bit more. She loves it, moaning louder, crying out hoarsely for him, loving how much care he goes to let loose with her, and yet not go too far.

"Bulma." He whispers, almost lost within her own climax that she thought she imagined it. He kisses her neck, as they take calming breaths. "Bulma." he says again, and she knows the first must have happened as well.

**End Rated "M" Scene**

He sighs, still over her, in her. She feels him reaching for something, and suddenly the light is on.

She gasps, unprepared to witness his tears. His face is stoic but for the red eyes, the water that tracks down. She hugs him to her, allowing him to collapse upon her. His own arms wrap around her, and he buries his face within her neck.

"It will be fine." She whispers, trailing hands up and down his back. Knowing that he'd hate any reference to his own perceived weakness, she continues as if she had not seen his tears. "Trunks will get it out of his system, and back to normal in no time. Just... give him that time."

"Hn." He comments, content to remain within her arms, within her warmth.

_How could she fear this man? _She muses, still feeling bliss they had just worked for, still feeling lust, though muted, coursing her body. For a Saiyan, he was quite in tune with his mate's feelings, and his own; she had witnessed quite a few other inter-racial marriages/mating whither and fail, or fizzle off on a plateau. Their own relationship, by contrast, still burned, still raged, still comforted. They might fight, be apart for long lengths of time, but in the end, it would still be wonderful.

As if reading her mind, Vegeta finally removes himself from her embrace, and leans on his side next to her. Leaning on an elbow and fist, he locks contemplative eyes on her, eyes she's known and can read; right now, he is focused all on her.

"What about you?" He queries, laying a hesitant hand on her stomach, caressing the baby bump that has made life just that more interesting, that more wonderful. "Will you be fine?"

She gets nothing from his gaze except his concern. Though it is heartening, it does not allay all her worries. "I don't know." She answers truthfully. "I'm afraid." She elaborates.

"Don't be." He commands, leaning down to kiss her. When he leans away again, he puts all her worries to rest. "Whatever you want, I will abide by." He looks down at her stomach, as if already aware of her decision and that whatever she will say is moot now.

Smiling at him, she should have known how easy this would be. She almost feels embarrassed over her thoughts earlier; he would never harm her, or take her children away from her without her consent. In fact, he'd do everything in his power to prevent it happening. Even fight her, as he had with Trunks.

Putting words to her wish though, she whispers, "I want to keep her."

Vegeta smiles at her stomach, already imaging what _she_ would be like, no doubt. Bulma smiles that she could give him that information before he leaves, since he won't be there for the birth she imagines. "What will you name her?" He asks.

"I was thinking maybe 'Bunny' after my mom. Maybe 'Bra'."

Chuckling darkly, still looking at her stomach and imagining a little daughter, he says, "I already have one of your brats named after your parents, don't name another one after your dimwitted mother. At least 'Trunks' is named after a genius."

Huffing, Bulma hits him with a pillow, "For that, I _will _name her 'Bunny'!"

Fast as lighting, Vegeta as her pinned underneath him with her arms trapped above her. Far from afraid, Bulma matches smirk with smirk, and wiggles enticingly against him. "Vulgar wench."

"Stinky asshole."

"Hmph. I should wash your mouth with soap."

"Hopefully before you use it on your nasty body."

"You couldn't resist me if you tried."

"Neither can you."

* * *

As dawn approached a few hours later, Vegeta prepares to leave Earth once more. He holds on to Bulma a few more seconds, allowing her scent to permeate him just a bit longer.

A throat is cleared behind them. Bulma sighs, disengaging from him, smiling up at him. "I'm glad you stopped by."

"Hn."

"Don't forget to tell Trunks that his birthday present is from Ambassador Bardock, as it originally was planned."

"Woman, if you tell me that one more time..."

"I know, I know! I just want to be sure Kakarot," And she looks behind Vegeta's shoulder to where the taller, but younger, Saiyan stood awaiting his king's command, "does not ruin it for us."

"You know him well, woman." Vegeta commented, and wore a smirk once she looked back at him.

"Hey!" was the indignant, if ignored, outburst from General Kakarot.

Bulma smiled at her husband, "You remember what to tell my son?"

Another long suffering sigh from Vegeta, as he eyed the the ceiling of her room and recited rather blandly: "'The sword as a long and rich history among Earthen culture. A symbol of honor, pride, strength; ranging from the broadsword to the cutlass, it uses varied as its owners, each unique to different cultures and those who wielded them.'" He looked back at Bulma, who muttered "Close enough." And he questioned, "There, happy? No doubt it will all float in one ear and out the other, and your brat will either keep it as a decoration, or foolishly think it will aid him in his combat."

"I think you're wrong," Bulma replied, "I bet Trunks'll be ecstatic to receive a gift that shows the giver, even if he thinks it is Bardock, thought he is a worthy enough warrior to receive a specially made sword from another planet. It will make him feel better about losing Nappa, even if it has no real combative value."

Bulma received no answer, only a deep stare. If she read him right, and she usually did now a days, he was proud of her, and perhaps honored to have her for a mate. How many human mothers would give their soon-to-be ten year old sons a real, specially crafted in all manner of cultural reference, steel sword? And not take credit for it? While gift giving and birthday celebrating were not Saiyan traditions, if they were, no doubt the presents would all be weapons of various kinds.

She had outdone herself, if she thought so herself. She smirked at Vegeta, and stated, "I am a genius, aren't I."

He rolled his eyes, but brought her in for a final kiss. "Trunks will be pleased." He affirmed against her lips.

"I love him." She said, impulsively, but no less true. Tears leaked out of her eyes as she bore into her mate's eyes, hoping he got the double meaning.

"I know." Vegeta replied, assuring her. Gently, he stepped away. They stared at each other while General Karkarot clasped King Vegeta's shoulder, gathering his powers for Instant Transmission.

She saw his pride, within him and for her. He saw her tears, her smile, and her love.

And then they were separated by trillions of miles of space once again.


	3. Meeting Bra

Reference: 4-5 months after the previous chapter.

Vegeta and Bulma: mid 40s

Trunks: 10

Bra: 0

* * *

The night was dark, cool, and calm. General Kakarot flew off the Capsule Core balcony towards the Saiyan Embassy located in the center of West City, while King Vegeta stayed behind, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. They were not very tumultuous or stressful, but it had been a while since he could take a breather. Nearly a year had passed since he last saw his woman, and he figured he could grace her with his presence since things back home had slowed down.

Besides, he had a curiosity about the new babe.

Barely a thought had really penetrated his mind on his mate and new child these last few months. What with the loss of General Nappa and the inexhaustible brat that lived within the palace walls, Vegeta felt he was due some down time. Who knew Nappa did so much when alive? Who knew Trunks demanded such attention from the seasoned warrior? The boy was a regular energy bubble, always ready to train, learn, and fight. Vegeta should be pleased, but how could he be when he was trying to train the elite soldiers? Trying to run a whole planet! Ugh. It was very embarrassing having the brat show up randomly, in the middle of spars or meetings, shouting: "Hey, dad! Look what I can do!" Or "Hey, dad! Did you know that so and so did such and such?" Or "Hey, Dad! Remember when Nappa did this really disgusting thing?"

_Hey, Dad! Hey, Dad! Hey, Dad!_

No matter how many times Vegeta demanded to be recognized as "father" or "my king", the brat refused to comply. It wouldn't be so bad if Trunks chose to interrupt him while he was alone, but no, the imbecile did it very publicly. It is all Bulma's fault, he is sure. He can only be grateful that a second childish burden would not "enrich" his life.

But... said second child is a daughter. No female had been born of the royal line for centuries. He knows, Nappa forced him as a child to read those dusty tomes. And later, when Bulma was living on planet Vegeta, and interested in her mate's history, they had read that same tome together. He smirked; definitely better reading the second time around…

When they reached the section on the royal family's history, and the bit about the offspring, Bulma had coyly suggested they try for a little girl. It had been in jest, neither one of them truly wanted more children, especially with their already strained relationship. But it had been a shining moment in their history together: making believe, and then going at it like earthling bunnies as a result of those adult imaginations.

But now, years later, when they were not even living together, a little girl had indeed been conceived. And if his timetables were correct, born as well; the first Saiyan Princess ever in living memory... he did not know what that signified. If anything, it was just the influence of human blood... but genetics (Thanks for that non-scintillating lesson, Bulma...) ruled that the male held the key for ... well... the sex of the babe.

Vegeta sighed. The girl would be raised human, as Trunks was raised Saiyan. If there is anything of significance, they would deal with it later. Right now, all he wanted was some damn sleep. With the only person he allowed to see his weakness, since his heritage prevented him from being an emotionless... thing.

That's what mates were for, anyway, or else Saiyan probably would not bother. Aside from the sex and procreation, mates took care of sadness, happiness, anger, and any other emotions threatening to weaken a warrior. If Vegeta had no one to shed his tears in front of, he doubts very much that he would have been an effective ruler after Nappa's death. After only relatively five minutes of allowing his tears to flow within the arms of Bulma, he had been fit and strong once more. And she never blabbered on his weakness either, something all mates instinctively did for their other halves. The vulnerability was an unfortunate need, and one entrusted to only the most strong of mates. And as far as Vegeta is concerned, Bulma is the strongest woman to hold on to, and protect, his emotions.

Thus thinking, he walked into the room connected to the balcony, inhaling the scent of his mate, and cataloging the new smell that must be his daughter. Taking another moment to still, to memorize the new presence, and smile. Then his stoicism returns.

He sits beside the slumbering woman, relishing her soothing heat behind his back as he takes off his boots, gloves, and chest armor. She barely stirs then, and even when he brushes a few hair strands from her face, she hardly moves, just utters a few weak whimpers.

Lying down behind her, Vegeta wraps her in his arms, allowing her to actively snuggle, to readjust to being moved. She stills, and he brings a hand beneath her tank top, seeking the smooth flesh of her body. He meets a scar, though, and stalls. She has been forever flawless, and he is stunned to find an imperfection on her now.

He traces the scar, realizing that their daughter came into the world with complications. At once, he worries, and an instant later he mentally slaps himself. Bulma is here, in his arms, breathing fine. The new brat's smell is hale and strong. The scar is a testament to Bulma's strength and endurance; pride blooms within Vegeta's heart. Never has his mate been so... Saiyan like: battling for her life, for another's life, and winning. He imagines looking at the scar, witnessing her trophy, kissing it, kissing her...

Vegeta kisses his mate's ear, and neck, liking the little endearing moans she makes, and how she wiggles her butt, unintentionally, against him. He buries his nose in her hair, stilling the beating of his heart. Soon after she settles again, he follows her into slumber.

A few hours later into the night, his sensitive ears pick up the whimpers of a babe. As full consciousness returns, those whimpers turn into cries, ones his mate can hear. Amused, he watches her squirm, wake, and walk towards the door as if in a daze, all without acknowledging him. He smirks when she stills, tiling her head with confusion as she finally realizes she was not alone in the bed, that there is an intruder.

Gasping, she spins around, and he watches her face go one from shock, to recognition, to happiness. "Vegeta." She whispers.

There is a pause in the room, and then their daughter starts screaming now, as if the earlier quiet was just her taking a breath. Vegeta winces, "I see she inherited your mouth, woman."

"As if." She replied, no doubt too tired for a wittier comeback. "She has your demanding nature and hunger, though." And while he chuckles, she turns towards the door again to take care of the brat.

He sits up on the bed, but moves no further. He listens with heightened senses as his woman coos at the baby, murmurs and moves around in the adjacent room. His hands clench upon the bedspread, undecided as to whether or not he wants to meet his offspring.

He hears gurgling, and his woman's giggles. She sighs as well, accompanied by a creaking sound. She must have sat in the rocking chair...

When Bulma starts to hum a song, Vegeta stands and moves to the hallway. He had witnessed motherhood on Bulma once before, and mesmerized by such evocative power, he wanted to see it again. Suffice to say, "Motherhood" did not suit very many Saiyan females, if any. There were hints of it here and there; at times showing deference or kindness towards their offspring, or when a female defended a brat for longer then was necessary; Saiyan brats usually able to fend for themselves after half a year.

However, the power that human mothers had in their aura was something completely different, and not seen in any other species Vegeta had come across. Human brats were weak, so it made sense their mothers became... more then they seemingly were. Even then, it rarely reached a level of poignancy that stunned him.

Publicly, Bulma treated baby Trunks as a "friend", albeit one who needed help with nearly everything. Vegeta recalls her talking to Trunks, asking him questions and teasing with him about others, as if the brat understood, and could offer a reply of some kind. But in private, with just her and Trunks, and perhaps with Vegeta as well, her aura shifted, as if it were a physical thing capable of overcoming all odds, and her tone with her baby was vastly different. Something Vegeta had to acknowledge as beautiful, wonderful, and downright emotional. It would never topple any kind of powers that be, but it was the closest to being a physical thing an abstract concept could be.

Vegeta would never admit it so, but he knew Bulma knew, and was no longer afraid of breaking down his own walls in the face of such awesome power. There had been many times in the two years that he, Bulma, and Trunks were all together that Vegeta took it upon himself to stare at mother and son, to memorize the mother's unassuming love, the baby's content dependency. Trying to pinpoint the shifting emotions, the physical bond where there was only weak abstractions, but forced to admit... it was much stronger then that. Stronger then her own love for her husband and mate. It went without saying, stronger then his own love for her.

Perhaps what made it so awesome to Vegeta was that it is not, like most human emotions, flaunted, or demanded of. It just is. A mother's love, a baby's love: there is no equal on earth, let alone the universe.

Vegeta wondered if such a thing still existed, years later.

Peeking through the door like a young brat instead of full grown warrior and ruler of a planet, Vegeta gazed with wonder upon his mate, upon his daughter. A knitted blanket wrapped around the two, and he could see the little girl's head peeking out, suckling upon the breast that was bared. Thin blue wisps covered the otherwise bald head, and outlined the alabaster baby against the mother's equally pale arm. He tracked Bulma's arm, and shoulder, finally gazing into the vision of "motherhood".

Bulma is smiling softly at her child, and stroking the cheek of the suckling babe. She was serene, calm, beautiful. Who is this woman who is not the fiery temptress that he knew? He would have hated Bulma in the beginning, if she constantly had treated him like that. It was, however, perfect in this moment, in a way he could not describe, or understand.

His own mother never looked at him like that. Not that it was her fault, or his, not that he really wanted such, but... perhaps it was something the Saiyan race could benefit from, Vegeta mused. He shook his head: _Blasted humans and their damned emotions._

The baby gurgled, and cooed, and was thoroughly being cute. Returning his attention to his new brat, he asked her name.

Not looking up from maneuvering the babe to her shoulder to burp, Bulma replied, "Bra."

Grunting in reply, he eyed the little babe from head to toe, or at least the misshapen bundle underneath the blanket. She is small, smaller then Trunks had been, and he had been smaller then Saiyan babies to being with. "Is she... malformed?" He asked.

Chuckling, Bulma replied, "No. She was just born early. There were... complications." silence but for the creaking rocking chair descends upon them. Had he been human, Vegeta probably would have asked what complications, if they were both OK. But, of course they were fine, they are both hale and healthy, there before him, and the past was just that, the past. Those types of questions are moot.

"Thank the stars you did not choose your mother's name." He spoke into the silence, breaking the tension. The creaking of the chair stopped for a second, and then continued. Rather then become annoyed (another symptom of "motherhood": the calm patience), his mate only smirked in reply.

Bra burped.

The chair stops again. "Do you want to hold your daughter, Vegeta?"

Not knowing how to answer, Vegeta just stands in the doorway, staring his mate in the eyes, conveying indecisiveness.

Bulma looks away, folding the blanket away, fixing her shirt, and cradling the child in her arms. Slowly, she stands, and looking only at the brat in her arms, she walks closer to him. She angles herself and the baby so that both parents have an unhindered view of the newest addition to their family. If their unit can be called such; it is indeed too emotional to be a Saiyan family, but too estranged to be a human one. Somewhere in between, a hybrid as much as their children were hybrids.

Vegeta brings a hand to Bra's head, marveling how his whole palm could engulf the fragile crown. Skin does not meet skin, but he can feel her minute heat, and her tiny ki, bridging the gap between her head and his palm. He smirks when he realizes her tiny ki, in comparison to Saiyan babes, is still larger then his woman's ki. She will grow to be a strong woman, whether a warrior or not. Well, with him and Bulma as parents, was there any doubt?

Almost as if flinching, he palms Bra's head. Bulma says nothing, does nothing, but he can feel her smile forming. Ignoring it, he focuses on the little being in his mate's arms, stroking his thumb on her forehead, in awe as he was only once before. And it is still different now, then it was with Trunks.

Bra was the first female heir of a king in centuries. She is _his_, she is his _daughter_, a miracle in the making among Saiyan culture, and the best of him and his mate. She would be beautiful like Bulma if her blue hair was any indication, and she would be strong like her father, as her ki suggested. Vegeta suddenly realized, he would do anything for her. Anything.

Gasping, removing his hand as if burned, he turned around as if to stomp away, yet he stayed in the doorway. He listened as behind him, Bulma sighed and went through the motions of laying her child back in the crib, while he internally struggled to grip reality again.

This is all different, more then he thought possible. Trunks did not cause such strong sensations to course through Vegeta. Those who did not know Vegeta well would hazard that he did not love his son. It was both false, yet appropriate. There would always be an arm's distance, a level of anger whenever father spoke to son, but it worked for both men; no one would think to use Trunks to hurt Vegeta, nor vice versa. Enemies would think it would be futile, and while it was not true, it worked for the defense of the royal Saiyan family.

And it had always been like that, even when Trunks was a fragile infant. While Vegeta did not plan for his existence, there was always some sort of mental awareness that any offspring that should chance to be conceived would be male, strong, and need to be protected from not only enemies, but from dangerous emotions. Especially when born of a human, as Vegeta once started thinking after the first few months mating with Bulma.

Vegeta does not think the same situation could arise for Bra.

Bra is dangerous to Vegeta, a weakness even more damning than his son, than his damned mate! He growled, clenching his fists, distraught over how much he wanted to do things for Bra. To protect, to provide, to watch over, to learn of, to teach, to listen; there was no end to how much he wanted to be there for her, and he falls to his knees in anguish that he had already given her up.

And then frustration mounts, anger at himself over his next thought: he would not be an effective Saiyan ruler if someone, even if that someone was his own daughter, with that much hold over his emotions was a constant presence. He at once hates himself for such thoughts and, for the first time in his memory, hatred over his lot in life. What could he be for Bra had he not been prince of his race? Had he been, like Kakarot, a mere citizen of their planet, without the responsibility of their people resting on his shoulders? His hatred of the clown rose as his frustrations mounted.

Soon enough, Bulma had turned her soothing nature from her child to her mate, coming and enveloping him in her scent and arms, her chin falling on his forehead. "Vegeta." She whispers over his head, "What's wrong?"

Strong arms surround his mate, fingers grasping at her shirt and gripping harshly. "How hard was it?" He rasps, struggling not to tear up. "How could you release Trunks to me like that?"

"Oh, Vegeta." She sighs. "I don't know how I did it. Even now, I struggle to say that I'd do it again. Some days I regret leaving him and you..." She starts to rub Vegeta's back, like he was another child. But he does nothing to stop her.

"Do you regret our separation?" She asks.

Snapping up to face her, he considers the question. "No." He finally says. "Earth is not for me. Vegeta is not for you." In a rare show of affection, he strokes her cheek. "You have sacrificed a lot of your human values for me, woman, and I have never realized how painful that was for you, until now."

He wipes away errant tears off his wife's face. She leans into his hand, "You want to keep Bra, don't you?"

"Hn. Perceptive as usual. Shh..." he whispers, recognizing the blooming fear in her eyes, "I will not take her from you, woman. Come," he says, standing up and offering her his hand, "Let us go to bed." He decides not to share his thoughts of Bra's power over him, knowing she would not take kindly to that interpretation of Bra being a "weakness".

They settle again on her bed, the woman lying atop his chest. With how much he yearns for his daughter, he wonders, "Woman, how come you never asked to see Trunks in all these years?"

He does not receive an answer for quite a few minutes, the silence stretching in the darkness. He expected to receive an overlong explanation, and was gearing himself for that, because he really needed to know how he could possibly give up his own daughter. Then, "It would get harder and harder to give him up, Vegeta."

Short. Succinct. And it made complete sense. No doubt she could say much more about the subject, but he was thankful for the short version for once. He mused on Bulma's strength, knowing she at least had two years with Trunks, and had been able to say 'goodbye' to the brat. Or perhaps she had been lucky? Vegeta had two minutes with Bra, and could hardly stand the distance between the two rooms... For his own protection, nay, his daughter's protection, he'd leave her on earth in the capable hands of her mother. And the Z Warriors, he supposes.

Making up his mind, he whispers, "I will not ask to see Bra again, nor will you ask it of me."

She nods against his chest, recognizing the command in his tone. Though she hates it when he makes demands of her, he does it rarely in recent years, and only when in need. He feels tears fall on his chest, and wonder if it is in sympathy, or regret. Perhaps both. He runs a hand up and down her spine, soothing her, hoping she knows he does feel the same...


	4. How I Met Your Mother

**Author's Notes: This chapter is switches back and forth between point of views (POV) in a way I have not done before. One POV is of Vegeta and Trunks, takes place after chapter 1, where Bulma has died, and is the most recent on the "timeline" in this story (so far). The other POV is of Bulma and Bra, which takes place before chapter one by a few years, but is after Bra has grown up to be a teen.**

**Beta read by "Vegeta'sNo.1" (thanks!) **

* * *

Reference: Vegeta and Trunks' POV: takes place _after _chapter 1.

Vegeta: mid 60s

Bulma: Recently Deceased

Trunks: early 30s

Bra: early 20s

Bulma and Bra's POV: takes place _before _chapter 1, but after chapters 2 and 3.

Vegeta and Bulma: late 50s

Trunks: mid twenties

Bra: mid teens

* * *

**HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER / FATHER**

Vegeta walked the corridors of the castle, looking for his son. Rather soon he found his lavender haired offspring outside, sitting beneath a transplanted earthen tree, honing his Earthling sword.

The Saiyan King smirked and made his way outdoors. Every now and then, when Trunks was extraordinarily contemplative, he would sit beneath the so-called "oak" tree and tend to the weapon that had been presented to him as a gift. And since it was an object with Earthen roots, Trunks naturally sat near the only symbol of Earth the Saiyans appreciated within the gardens: The Mighty Oak.

Since Trunks rarely received sentimental gifts, it made sense for him to latch on to the first one he ever got_. _The sword had been a blessing in disguise during that difficult time in the prince's life. Looking back, Trunks now no doubt had realized that the loss of a dear person like General Nappa was not a reason for the world to meet it's doom. Trunks had thought that he might as well die just like him, that life would never be the same- even end after Nappa's death. At that time the hybrid had been unable to grasp this seemingly basic concept and possibility that every Saiyan warrior faced by fulfilling his or her duty.

The sword had made Trunks feel better at that time. It had also helped him to channel his anger, and became a way to deal with his feelings ever since, of which Vegeta was grateful for. Why cry to his father, when Trunks could cry to an inanimate object? It was convenient for both of them, Vegeta mused. He for one didn't wish to listen to the child's whining and senseless emotional blabbing. Of course he would never admit that he was just uncomfortable with such situations because his upbringing did not cultivate the compassion his mate had when it came to these kinds of things.

And considering that Trunks had just learned the truth of this maternal parentage, it was even more fitting that he would find solace underneath the leafy boughs of Earth, with the comforting weight of earthling steel, instead of in his fathers arms.

"Brat," The king spoke as he came nearer to his heir, crunching acorns beneath his boots in the process_._ "You will meet me tomorrow to discuss our trip to Earth." He handed Trunks a packet of papers. "You are better than the average Saiyan as far as foreign relations go, and you've already met humans, but here's a guide on what to do and especially what _not_ to do while you stay on Earth."

"Do I really need this?" Trunks smirked up at his father. "I can only imagine who this really is for."

Vegeta chuckled as well. "Naturally, I would have to beat this into the brains of every other Saiyan going off world. Burn it into a crisp for all I care, just be sure to let Ambassador Chi Chi know I gave it to you, alright?"

"Yes, father."

The King was about to leave when his heir spoke up again. "Hey, father?" He paused as he gathered his courage. "Will you tell me more about my mother?"

Vegeta sighed and wondered how it was possible for Trunks to always know when he might be in a good enough mood to "share". After thirty years growing (surviving) in his father's care, besides being the son of so-called genius Bulma, Vegeta really shouldn't be surprised at Trunks' empathy. Leaning against the oak tree under which Trunks still sat, he replied, "What exactly do you wish to know, brat?"

Trunks looked down at his sword, dropped the pumice stone only to run an oil cloth along its already pristine edge. "I don't know... What was she like? What did she do? How long was she on Planet Vegeta?" He looked up to his father again. "How did you two meet and marry?"

* * *

"Hey, mom?"

"Hey, Bra?" Bulma mimicked_,_ smirk forming on her lips as she finalized some reports on her laptop.

"Can you, ah... tell me about my dad?"

The clacking of the keyboard stopped and Bulma looked at her daughter instead of the computer screen. Bra looked mostly unconcerned, in the process of popping her bubble gum and texting on her cell phone, leaning casually against the counter in Capsule Corp's kitchen. Bulma would scold Bra for texting while "socializing", but that might have been a little hypocritical for the scientist who, at times, appeared to be glued at to her laptop.

The scientist rolled her eyes as she suddenly realized that this question was not meant as seriously as she thought it to be. Bra obviously was not aware of the implication that usually arose by asking such questions. Mother asks daughter, "What brought this up, Bra?"

POP! went the gum. "Oh, you know. Stuff." Receiving no reply, the teen looked up to see her mother looking at her with a raised eyebrow as well as a more than a little weird smile on her face. Bra sighed, sending the text she was working on, then looked back at her mother with some more seriousness in her face. Though not much more. "Like, you know how my school has these social dances that I go to almost every week?" Her mother nodded. "Well, this upcoming one is a 'father/daughter' one. I'm not too disappointed or anything, this'll be a good chance to hang out with Pan. You know she loathes going to these things, right? Like, last week she told me..."

"Stick to the subject, Bra." Interjected her mother with a bit of a chuckle.

"Right." Bra said as she moved a bit to sit across from her mother, "Well, anyway, all the girls were talking about their dads and how they were coordinating outfits. Like, Maron, totally got Mr. Krillin a black shirt and maroon tie to match..."

Bulma cleared her throat.

Bra giggled. "Sorry. But yeah, I had nothing to contribute to that conversation. And you know I love you mom and I never really needed a father figure; all my uncles are more than enough!"

Mother and daughter shared a laugh at the Z Warriors' expense, causing them all to sneeze as they went about their daily lives.

* * *

Vegeta stared at his son. To most, it would look like a glare and perhaps it was, but mostly he wondered how much he wanted divulge to his fanciful son, with delusions of "family".

His gaze softened though, as he recalled his woman and he glanced off to the distance, his eyes reflecting the red sands of the desert that flanked one side of the castle. "Your mother was a regular force of nature, Trunks. I never had any thought towards mating or procreating, but it seemed as if the universe literally threw us against each other and there was nothing to do but to accept it. Not that we did. No, I think we both fought not only each other, but denied the unstoppable strong force and emotions that bound us to each other. Even more so when we started ... bonding.

"Earth had only been part of the Planet Trade Organization for fifty years or so. They had sent ambassadors throughout the Alpha Quadrant, even to us. We hardly send any type of peaceful emissary anywhere, but we returned the favor this once, since we really liked human tech and food; that is why General Kakarot was on Earth for so long; his father, you remember retired General Bardock, was our first and only Ambassador to Earth. They even received human names from their hosts: 'Braddock' and 'Goku', you may have heard them being called like that once or twice?"

Prince Trunks nodded, knowing it was what Chi Chi preferred to call her husband and father-in-law the one or two times he'd met her. He remembered Ambassador Chichi and her short temper – especially when it came to her sometimes goofy and clumsy husband. She had never called him Kakkerot though the half-breed secretly suspected that she called him Goku because it was easier and faster to scream.

Vegeta nodded once again and continued. "I first left our planet when I was fifteen years old. I had learned all I needed of Saiyan heritage, honor and culture; it was time to embark on a journey to learn of other cultures or so your grandfather deemed necessary. Earth was first on my itinerary, mostly because Earth was our friendliest ally. Not our most advantageous ally, but most friendly."

* * *

Smiling at her mother Bra continued, "I was never sad because I didn't have my dad around. I'm not worried about it so much. In fact, I'm kinda weirded out about how I never really thought to ask, until just now..."

Bulma sighed at Bra with a small_, _understanding smile on her face. "You're like your father, in that regard. More than you know." The mother reached for her daughter's hand across the table, grasping it within her own. "You care, I know you do. But you have your priorities straightened out. I bet you never asked about a father because you have all that you need in the way of caring, supervisory, adults. It's a redundant waste to want more, right? That's how your father would feel, anyway. It was how he felt about his own parents.

"But." She continued, forestalling Bra's interruption. Her daughter's brow was furrowed, no doubt not liking the idea of being considered a "redundant waste" by her father, even if she didn't truly care whether he was around or not. "To answer your question: your father, Bra, is not of this planet..."

Bulma proceeded to regale to a wonder struck Bra the story of how a Saiyan prince befriended a human scientist, how they journeyed through space together, how the warrior was the adventure of a lifetime for the bookworm, and in turn how the scientist was the anchor for the raging beast.

* * *

Vegeta smirked, recalling the anger of his youth, his pride and callousness. "I was a stupid youth; unlike you Trunks, I did not grow up with aliens surrounding me, I only knew Saiyans and anything else was weak, stupid; simply unworthy of my attention. I kept my damaging pride even as I docked onto Earth. I treated the humans viciously, callously and by their standards, extremely rude." He spared a quick glace to an awed Trunks. "You never have known me as an asshole to visiting dignitaries, but there I was, this close to destroying another race." He looked off to the distance again, as if there, behind the corner a shadow from the past would leak, seeking out the memories buried deep within his hard heart to let him feel the joy and naivitê of his young years once more. "If it weren't for Ambassador Ox, and later his daughter, Chi Chi, coming here, I doubt relations would have progressed in a healthy manner after my visit.

"In any case, Bardock and Kakarott were, _naturally_,'' the King of Saiyans said in a rather sarcastic manner_.''_ In charge regarding my stay on Earth. They were the ones who beat sense into me: literally most of the time. My first few state events were, suffice to say, disasters." Vegeta chuckled. "Not that they got any better, just stocked with more food."

The King of Saiyans tilted his head in memory, shifting against the oak tree as he looked down at Trunks again. "There was, in fact only one frivolous dinner on Earth that didn't end in a physical brawl_._ That night I met a young, cocky and particularly loud-mouthed IT intern who spent the whole evening getting on my nerves and engaging in a verbal war against me.

"At some point, she made me so angry, I threw a peace of furniture right across the room.'' Vegeta almost laughed until he realized who he was telling this story. Clearing his throat, he went on.

''This immensely rude intern was your mother. I have to admit that at that time, my pride and wits had no chance against her stubborn nature. She was the first female who told me- right into my face nonetheless- that I, Prince of All Saiyans, was a jerk. Only Kakarot was able to save her life as I tried to kill her for her insolence. Needless to say, I did not see her again for the few months I stayed on Earth. But then, our two governments agreed to share some space itineraries for travelling students.''

* * *

"I was a tempestuous woman and that man was so hardheaded!" Bulma sighed. "And so prideful; I doubt he'd ever let me get close, had I not distracted him from his anger." She chuckled.

''One time, he was so close'' The scientist held her two fingers up and held them not even two centimeters away from each other to make her point clearer. ''to murdering one of your uncles. It was Yamcha, if you wish to know; he was a Star Fleet soldier stationed on the same ship but- as the genius I was- I interrupted Vegeta's tirade by asking him if he wanted sauce on his chicken!''

The blue haired mother of Bra started laughing hysterically at the seemingly hilarious memory, though Bra could not understand what had been so funny about it.

_'_'Can you imagine? Saving the life of a man with the promise of good food! Hahahahaha...!''

* * *

Vegeta looked up to the night stars again, reminiscing. "The rest, it seems, like more of that funny force of nature stuff. I was traveling the stars to learn, to be a better man, a better ruler, and she traveled to learn all she could of science, of the universe." He sighed_. _

That sigh seemed to weigh so much, Trunks thought. It seemed like all the sorrow of the universe had been bound together in this small gesture.

"I cannot, for the life of me, ever recall being so carefree as I was back then. She was so easy to tease, mercilessly; to see her turn red in anger was a sight to behold. Only later would I recognize it as a desire. She had an effect on me as well: every time I started to blow a fuse, she would distract me with some inane question, or task. 'Do you want extra BBQ sauce on your dinner? You need a shower, buddy!' Heh... those questions, Trunks, those questions from an impertinent woman, and I obliged! Such an enigma... the universe is safe because of such inane chatter."

* * *

When Bulma calmed down again, she looked at Bra with a sheepish look, "But I couldn't distract his whole race. Traveling through space was the best time we had; ten glorious years before we tried to settle down. I tried to live on Vegeta for a year, but by that time, I was over the whole 'macho' act the Saiyans had. Don't get me wrong, it really is no act, but it's hard to get used to when it was not balanced with human mannerisms we've grown up with and are protected by. There's no way a whole human society would be so... aggressive. And the Saiyans are. But no matter how much honor they have, no matter how many guards your father gave me, I never truly felt safe there..."

"And so you left?"

"Yes." Bulma hung her head in shame. "It's my greatest regret Bra, that we couldn't make it work. I love the man, but I couldn't love his home."

* * *

Vegeta pushed himself off the oak tree, glaring at his son again. "And there you have it, boy, the universe is worse than Frieza," And he continued through Trunks' horrified expression "to have brought two such people together; one short lived emotional wreck and one long living, vicious monarch." He shook his head. "There was no chance."

And he walked away, without looking back. If he had, he would have seen the understanding expression on his son's face.

* * *

Bra thought about it for a few minutes. It was interesting to see her face so deep in concentration. Bulma would have smirked, if it wouldn't have been for the topic of their discussion. Bulma knew Bra was smart, her grades proved such, but rarely was it that her daughter was so serious about anything.

Finally, Bra voiced her conclusions. "And he stayed on Planet Vegeta because he was king and needed to rule over his people?" Bulma nodded. "That is sooo sad! Couldn't he have abdicated, or something? Did he not love you? Us?"

There was such a pleading look in her daughter's eyes, that Bulma was taken aback for a moment; who knew that Bra was such a romantic? She squeezed her daughter's hand, finding strength from the girl's strong and beautifully manicured hand. "There was a time, Bra, that abdicating was exactly what your father wanted to do. But when he thought of living here, on Earth, he would shudder in as much disgust as I had for his planet. No matter how much he tried to hide it, he was as averse to peace as I was to aggression. It's hard to explain, when you and I both know of warriors of Earth who love nothing better than to fight. But... Saiyan's take it to a whole different level...

"He lived here for a year or so, Bra. He did try, before we moved to his home. Never think your father didn't try... never think he did not love me, or you. It would take a torture session to get the man to admit it, but he had loved enough let go. Just think, if he hadn't loved me enough to let me live as I wished, we both would have been unhappy, or he would not have let me keep you..."

"Keep me? You mean..."

"Yes, he did want you. It was not for lack of caring that you grew up here on Earth. He loved you the moment he saw you, but he looked past his own needs, sparing me the pain of losing another child, knowing that your life would be better on Earth than on Planet Vegeta. Or so he thought. There are days when I wonder if it would have been better for you... but I am glad you are here, with me."

Bra, confused with her worth for the first time, withdrew her hand from her mother's, crossing her arms in an effort to protectively curl into herself. "There was another child?" At Bulma's widening eyes, not noting that she had let that secret slip, Bra had her confirmation. "And you lost it? Did it... die? Or did my fath... that prince... forced you to give up one and felt he had his heir, it wasn't worth keeping me?"

She would have said more, but by then Bulma had stood and wrapped Bra up in her arms. "Shh..." she comforted. "That came out wrong." She admitted. "Your father never forced my hand, on anything. Our first child, your brother by the way, was raised by Vegeta because I wanted Vegeta to raise our son. It was one of the hardest decisions I ever made, Bra, second only to the choice of leaving your father. And I was the one who decided I was going to raise you. If you blame anyone, Bra, you should blame me."

There was silence for a long moment, so much that it started to get uncomfortable for Bulma to continue holding Bra while leaning over said daughter's shoulders. She patted Bra's shoulders, standing and staring to mash up some semblance of a meal, when it was Bra's turn to hug Bulma from behind the shoulders.

"I never knew how strong you are." Was all Bra said.

* * *

"Wait, dad!" And Trunks's hand fell on Vegeta's shoulder, stopping him. Vegeta tensed, ready to punch the living lights out of Bulma's brat, but was waylaid by another question. "Wanna spar?"

Startled, Vegeta glanced at his son over his right shoulder, finding only a challenging smile on the boy's face, no fear or apprehension. Only later would Vegeta recall that that was the first time Trunks was able to derail his foul mood, instead of (inadvertently) causing it. It took thirty years, but Trunks was finally more than just an image of Bulma, but an enigma as well: to have not only known his mood, but how to change it.

"Sure, son."


	5. All Good Things

**Author's Notes:**** Beta-ed by Vegeta'sNo1 (thank you!). Standard disclaimers apply.**

**-There seems to be a decided lack of father-daughter interaction, and this chapter makes it seem like there never will be. BUT! Hold fast, for next chapter makes up for that.**

**-Sorry for the shortest chapter ever for this story, and that it's quite a downer, but I hope the readers still enjoy...**

* * *

Reference: takes place a few weeks before chapter 1.

Vegeta and Bulma: mid 60s

Trunks: early 30s

Bra: early 20s

* * *

**All Good Things...**

Bra sat next to her mother's hospital bed. For once, the normally bubbly twenty-something woman was subdued and pensive; she would answer calls and texts from friends and family and would converse with the doctors and nurses as necessary, but otherwise, she would hold her mother's fragile hand and seemingly stare off into space.

She does not recall ever feeling this way before, not when any of her pets died, or even when her very own grandparents passed away. But Bunny and Trunks Briefs had been old, and had been ailing for quite a few years: it almost seemed a peaceful passing for all involved. But her mother, gosh, she had been lively and spry up until just a week ago, and a week was not long enough to get used to the idea that Bulma Briefs would soon no longer be around to give advice, support, or love.

Tears do not form, but there are other signs that give away Bra's grief. Her hands clenched whenever not holding her mom's hand, her shoulders were tense, and she was frowning.

Thankfully, she was not alone. Behind her, the Son family respectfully stood vigil. Uncle Braddock (the Saiyan ambassador whose name origins was "Bardock") had explained to Bra about the Saiyan tradition of guarding a fellow comrade's passage into the afterlife, and ever since Bulma landed in the hospital with no hope of leaving it alive, Braddock's family, even a visiting Ambassador Chi Chi, had formed the honor guard for Bulma Briefs.

Son Goten, Braddock's youngest grandson, stands closest to Bra, right behind her with a warm and gentle hand on her shoulder. Silently grateful for the support, she allowed it to stay there. Another sign of her grief, for normally the spitfire would jokingly spurn Goten's public affections.

Soon enough, there was a popping sound, and the final member of the Son family, General Kakarot (or Uncle Goku, to Bra), arrived, along with the Saiyan King in tow. Bra recognized her father not for his royal regalia (as she is not familiar with the alien uniforms anyway), but for his extreme widow's peak, the high flamed hairstyle, and his obsidian glare... her mother's framed photo did not do the man justice, Bra subconsciously thought.

King Vegeta did not spare anyone in the room a glance other then his mate, and went to her directly. This brought him directly in Bra's way, his back to her in a way that made her angry._ 'Who is this man to usurp my mother from me at her final hour? Where has he been the whole time? He deserves neither her love, nor my respect!'_

"Get away from her." She hissed, standing from her chair, in the process of dislodging Goten's hand from her shoulder.

All of the Son family held their breaths, except perhaps a smirking Chi Chi, but the king did not react to her outburst. Which only serves to make Bra angrier, "I said," she growled, coming to stand directly behind the alien monarch and reaching for his shoulder, "get away from her!"

Her hand lands on his shoulder, but her strength is negligible compared to his and she is unable to budge him an inch.

"Bra..." Interrupts a soft voice, and the girl is stunned to hear this particular voice. Looking around her so-called father's shoulder, she locked blue eyes with blue, and reluctantly nodded as she heard her mother ask her to come around the bed.

Soon enough, Bra held Bulma's hand, and the woman inexplicably smiles. Bra frowned, and Vegeta seems equally confused. "Woman," the man whispered, "You are too young to die. Did you not tell me humans could live to at least a hundred? You are not yet seventy!"

"Ah, Vegeta," Bulma sighed, locking an adoring gaze upon the man which Bra wishes she had not seen, "Cancer will do this to people. There's nothing I could or can do. Besides, why not leave while I still look young, eh?" She flashed him with a wink.

Bra was surprised, and angry, to see a smile form on Vegeta's face. But before she could retort to what looks like a condescending nature, Vegeta surprised his daughter with his next words to Bulma: "You are, and always were, more than your beauty to me, of which you will never loose regardless. I will miss you." And when he finished that sentence, tears fell down his cheeks.

Shocked, Bra could get over the amount of emotion happening just inches from her. _"Who... wha... why...?"_ Were her incomplete thoughts. She had never met the man, but knew of him; both stories from extended family or friends and through her own research of modern Saiyan histories. Most accounts spoke of harsh, brutal dictatorships that were only tempered by the fact that their society was successful under the rule of a strong arm. Otherwise, Saiyans, most scholars agreed, would have fallen into barbaric tendencies unfit for proper or genteel governments. They were not known for public displays of anything other than strength or brute honor. Her friends, of those who met Vegeta, were quick to agree the man behind the crown was every bit as the accounts depicted, if perhaps, as the ruler, a bit more pensive, stoic, and honorable than the rest.

Her anger fades at recalling the few times her mother had spoken of her father intimately, ever since that fateful day when Bra opened up the can of worms. Uncle Goku would give his king the benefit of the doubt most of the time, and would laugh about Vegeta and tell humorous stories to "his princess", as he called Bra, and while they were appreciated as a perspective of a soldier and citizen of Planet Vegeta that showed Vegeta's success to his own people, Goku really had not assure Bra of her father's "good" side. It was Bulma's anecdotes that had brought Bra's father to life, brought him to their home when he couldn't be, who told Bra that Vegeta had visited, and why. Bulma had spoken reverently of the whole "emotional" thing that tied mates together, and how she would soothe her mate, comfort him, and occasionally counsel him. Even in her waning years, Vegeta would come visit to just talk, hold her, and be her best friend, and she, his.

Her father now grabs hold of a wrinkly hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss; tenderly, Bra notes, and above the simple single solitaire ring her mother had never taken off. Since opening the dialogues about her father with her mother, Bra has learned that what should have been a huge planetary affair ended up being a simple matter aboard a starship in their early years together. Bra now knew of her father's abhorrence of anything too extravagant or filled with "traditions" and "pomp"; even the wedding photos Bulma kept showcased how much Vegeta grimaced and groaned over a quick and last minute eloping upon the Starship Enterprise, presided over by the relaxed and easy going (if a bit flamboyant) Captain Ginyu. For her father to kiss her mother's ring… no one but Bulma would ever know his true emotions, Bra thought, and was saddened over that fact.

Bulma however chuckled, raising a hand to wipe away at Vegeta's tears, almost looking like a vision of a mother calming her son, rather than a wife to her husband. "I will miss you too. But I will not miss your demands on my time, not your attitude towards what I should do for you."

The king barked out a laugh, almost incongruous next to his tears that still fell. He grabbed her hand at his cheek, kissing its wrist, "Insufferable wench," he muttered with a smirk, "I will not miss your insubordination, nor your insolence." Bulma only smirked.

The next few hours were quiet, but not silent. Bra's parents spoke intimately, so much that while she was mere inches away from them she rarely caught a word. She did not mind however, seeing her mother animated like this in her last hours was a balm to Bra, and to know it was her father that did it eased her apprehension to being in his presence. Her mother was so at peace, so happy, acting almost like her death was just... another adventure, another time when she'd leave early, and Bra would later catch up with her, and eventually her husband as well.

Looking at her father was strange. Other then the Son family, Bra rarely interacted with Saiyans. Not that the Son family was much to go by, according to Uncle Braddock, since they adopted human emotionalism quite well; but still, she figured there was something to learn from them. Not so: Vegeta was a class all on his own. He only had smiles for Bulma, but whenever he did look at anyone else (and never at her, his daughter), he would be closed off, exuding a vicious air and giving generic glares to all. The difference was startling, as different as winter from summer; when he'd go back to Bulma, his mate, his face would just... bloom. Bra could not describe it in any other way.

Bulma had told Bra about what mates did for the other as far as emotions went. And even though Vegeta was in a room full of other people, it made sense that the king of all emotionless apes would use this time, with only hours to spare, to flood Bulma with his love and not care who sees. It spoke to his level of trust in the Son family, despite their lackadaisical attitude at times; the Son family would not break his confidence, nor would they be easy prey of enemies seeking to weaken the king. Bra had to admit, it made sense since she felt the same trust in them as well.

"Give Trunksie my love." Bulma whispered finally, after the pair had shared some comfortable silence in each other's presence, and such soothing silence resumed again. Vegeta nodded, saying nothing, but constantly making little gestures of affection, both knowing it wasn't only Trunks that Bulma declared love for.

In the end, those had been her last words, but Bulma had died surrounded by her family and friends, only missing one beloved son. She died with a gentle smile on her face, being caressed by her husband, his warm and strong hands holding firmly upon her own weakened hand, combing her somehow still blue hair, stroking her cheek, palming her forehead, and generally assuring both of them that he was still there. For her, always.


	6. The Royal Weddings

**Author's Notes: **Well... one final chapter ended up as two chapters... got on a tangent and somehow took a detour. Anywho, this, and the final (?) chapter, take place more or less around the same time, and certain things might seem similar, or explored in both chapters. I tried to make it cohesive, but I literally pulled apart one big chapter into two; there's just no making that neat (especially how disjointed Bra's story is now; you'll see). But I hope it looks neat to the readers, and they forgive me, already knowing how much I don't tell a story in a straight line... Enjoy! :)

Thanks to Vegeta'sNo.1 for helping to edit!

* * *

Disclaimer: the author does NOT share the same opinion that Vegeta has regarding Gohan. No flames regarding that matter. (all other flames are negotiable)

Reference: Takes place after all the other chapters, but shares the same timezone as the final chapter.

Bulma: deceased.

Vegeta: late 60's and beyond.

Trunks/Goten: mid 30's and beyond.

Bra/Pan: mid 20's and beyond.

**Dram** is used informally to mean a small amount of alcohol, especially Scotch whiskey. (wikipedia)

* * *

**The Royal Weddings**

Following Bulma's death and burial, the years passed in surprising contentment for Vegeta. He considered it an honor to witness both his progeny's successful settling into new chapters of their respective lives. It was unfortunate that the Son family was now forever linked to that of the Royal Hose... but at least their brawn made up for their idiocy. No one could dispute their strength, and what gifts the human genes gave the Saiyan Royal Family, from Bulma and ChiChi, allowed that cunning and compassion would now bolster, rather than hinder, a Saiyan monarch's reign for centuries to come.

Vegeta, as king and able to join two people in a mating/wedding ceremony, had presided over his own son's wedding to another demi-saiyan, a girl named Pan who Vegeta recognized as one who loved to fight. Pan thrilled in the sportsmanship and bloodletting, perhaps more than Trunks, the Saiyan King's own son, and one who had lived on the planet for his whole life. The king, unknown to anyone else, relished how good Pan was for Trunks; that little spitfire renewed Trunks' desire to show off his fighting skills to someone, renewed the boy's pride in his strength and heritage. And this easy taking-to his new daughter-in-law further illustrated to all who knew him, as having a softer spot for females than males, adapting to Son Pan far, far-far-far, quicker than he took to his other in-law: Son Goten.

While Son Gohan was pleased to formally give verbal permission for Trunks to marry Pan, to whisk his only daughter from not only their home town, but home _planet,_ Vegeta was not pleased to do the same for Bra, so he didn't. Though Bra had made plans to stay on Planet Vegeta now, and any mate of hers would reside where ever she wished, the King still had reservations on giving up that which he only just regained; the long lost beloved daughter, the last child of Bulma's, the only visible link to his deceased wife (Trunk's didn't count, he had been around too long and Vegeta was, sad to admit it, desensitized to the boy's appearance). In fact, Vegeta told Bra only once, and forcefully at that, that only a man who could defeat him, her father, in combat would be worthy of her hand. And that was that, no room for argument as he bashed an unworthy suitor's head against the ground.

Trunks surmised, correctly, that it was a test to see who could take over Vegeta's right to protect what was precious to him. It was not a Saiyan custom, as usually males only had to defeat their intended, not their intended's _royal father_, in a show of bravery and an alien version of "proposing", as Bulma would say. But nobody, not even Bra, disputed Vegeta's command. Perhaps it was Bra's own way to give honor back to Vegeta, to allow him this small measure to finally be a parent to her.

Keeping in mind that King Vegeta's decree had nothing to do with him personally, Goten never gave up and never lost heart. He came back every few months to receive another beating, refusing to give up... to prove he, a mere boy who grew up on peaceful Earth, was worthy of the princess, and able to defeat a veteran Saiyan warrior who had seen battles and hardships.

Vegeta chuckles at the memory, while Goten merely rubs his head in humble embarrassment. It had taken Goten five years to succeed, fives years of effort which nearly drove the demi-Saiyan mad, almost, because of his desire to formally mate Bra, without resorting to secret meetings and safe precautions.

Goten had nearly lost his chance when _another _male, a full Saiyan no less, had almost beaten the King, and had therefore gained the monarch's respect. Bra would never marry _that_ Saiyan, Vegeta knew, so he had less hostility towards a man that would not, in fact, take his little girl from him. Even if beat, Vegeta did NOT have the final say in Bra's marriage: Bra did.

That did not matter to Goten, what mattered was that he almost came in second for Bra's hand. That would not do. It would not even do to NOT to gain the king's respect, and it surprised everyone when he voiced his desire to befriend a man who was "marginally friendly" to very few. It was the extra push, and Vegeta almost relished the fight that occurred next. Almost, because even as he admitted defeat and grudging admiration to Goten, he then had to watch said honorable man make an honorable woman out of Bra. His precious baby girl, now woman, who reminded the King so much of his Queen. Vegeta wished he could have held on to his daughter for a while longer, perhaps forever, always gleeful to send the brat back to Earth for more training until he tried again so that Bra was safe in Vegeta's care a few weeks more. Alas, even the father had to admit the joyful radiance that his daughter exuded upon finally being engaged was worth her growing up.

King Vegeta also presided over Bra's wedding to Goten on the palace grounds of Vegeta, underneath the Oak tree in fact, but afterwards spent the majority of the reception on Earth, at Bulma's grave. Kakarot had instantly transmitted back to the food buffet, leaving Vegeta alone with his wife's tombstone. He would always need her, and even if separated by death, he would seek her presence to settle his rattled nerves.

There was no sound but for the wind, and the man perused his memories in comfort. Sitting in front of the stone slab, he opened a bottle of fiery Saiyan whiskey, dropping a few drams onto the dirt, smirking as he recalled that Bulma did not even like whiskey. "Sorry," he whispered insincerely, "but it was the groom's gift to me, so it's all I had on hand when I left." He looked at the bottle, noting for the first time it's brand and smirking at seeing his preferred brand. '_Boy has guts.'_ Vegeta thought.

After imbibing a liberal sample himself, he sighed and looked to the sky. It was a cloudy day on earth, yet not raining. He noted the grayness, how the green of the trees stood out against the dreary backdrop, and off to the west where the sun had started to set, peeking out from the edges of the clouds. A "silver lining" as Bulma would say, though now it was golden hued during sunset; he turned back towards Bulma.

"He's not so bad," He spoke of Goten, "and neither is Pan." Cocking his head to the side, he considers their lineage, "If they weren't the descendants of Kakarot, I might even have liked them more than not." He took another sip, "Unlike that Gohan, when I first met him. He was such a bitch as a child, tripping us on the Enterprise; gods why did Kakarot have to bring his son on that trip? I had low expectations for any and all half breeds that would ever exists, and yet..."

Sighing, he stopped that train of thought, bringing his hand to his chest, feeling the unfamiliar human contraption called a "tux" and ruing the day he ever agreed to wear one to appease his daughter's "human wedding". "I hope you know how proud I am of our daughter, not even _you _could get me to wear this 'monkey suit'." After a pause, he barked a laugh, "No. Pun not intended..."

He took the red rose out of his coat pocket, admiring the fragile yet beautiful flower, recalling briefly the white roses that made up Bra's bouquet. "You did good. I hope I did half as well with Trunks. I know I did, but this irrational thought comes up now and again that..." Sighing, he again stops a train of thought, placing his rose upon Bulma's grave, once again giving her his attention.

"I am proud of Trunks." He voices for the first time in his life, "I love him," another confession never voiced before, "and Bra just as much. She really looks like you, you know? I bet you did it on purpose." He frowns. "Insufferable wench..." He dropped another few drams upon her grave, before inelegantly gulping down the rest of the burning alcohol.

Unable to look at her anymore, even if it was just a gravestone, he looked to the darkening skies again. "I am not truly happy, but I am at peace and content. Our children are happy and settled, there is little more I could do for either one... I've been thinking of abdicating, of allowing either Trunks or Bra to ceremonially challenge me for the crown, to pass it on." The silence engulfs him for a few more minutes.

"Did you know?" He broke the silence, "That I am currently the longest reigning monarch ever to rule? You probably knew that already; However, I bet that either brat could outdistance even me. Trunks has had much more training growing up dealing with alien relations and affairs of the planet than I had, much more receptive to it as well. He is such a smart boy... And Bra, while not raised on my planet, has extraordinary pride in it. Where I have struck fear into the hearts of all my subjects, she has won over their hearts, and has even beaten some of my top generals." He smirked darkly, "She truly is my daughter. Nappa would have hated her. And by hate, I mean 'given her undying devotion'. He was such a softy for brats..."

His smile slowly faded, remembering another blue haired beauty within the capitol. He ran a hand over his eyes, "I'm sorry we couldn't make it work, Bulma. But in the grand scheme of things... it worked. You anchored me faithfully for thirty plus years, and I... well, you know. Our kids can, and will, do better than even we did. I trust them. And their spouses." _'And that is no small matter' _he thought to himself.

The King of Saiyans took a shaky breath, he stared into the name of his beloved wife, whispering daring words that he rarely uttered in his whole life, "I love you, Bulma."

He fell silent again, recalling the last time he had visited his woman's grave. It was a few short years ago when his brats were bonding over their histories of family and friends; a trifling human tradition, but Vegeta had easily tolerated it. Trunks once had showed an appropriately awed Bra the grave of the Great Saiyan General Nappa, regaling her with both heroic ballads and hilarious anecdotes, happy for finding an ear willing to listen in his younger sister. In return, Bra had escorted a trembling Trunks to their mother's final resting place, where he had never been before. Hell the boy had never before been to Earth!

The son had fallen to his knees in the presence of his mother's final resting place; there had been silence for a few moments as the boy trembled in what, Vegeta knew not. Confusion? Sadness? Awe? Eventually Trunks had cried out, begging forgiveness from his mother, for not knowing her, not being there for her...

But it was Vegeta's hand on his shoulder that had taken the blame, silently and without reservation. Tears had fallen from everyone, but it healed wounds. They could move forward, and live their lives as Bulma would want.

Bra seemed livelier afterwards, ready to share more happy memories of their mother. And Trunks was ready to absorb Earth culture; including the new sensation of human dating. Vegeta muses on how else Trunks would have ever met Pan, if not to visit his mother's grave?

"You orchestrated their meeting, didn't you?" He suddenly asked Bulma, imagining her smirk and proclamation of being a genius or whatever. He rolled his eyes. "Of all the reasons to die, it was for _love?" _he spat, feeling better now as disdain overrode his uncomfortable heartache. Again, Bulma knew how to soothe her mate, even if from beyond the grave.

By the time Kakarot returned to Vegeta's side, the King had already stood again with arms crossed and scowl on his face, ready to leave at once.

"What an enigma." He whispered, words belying his foul visage.


	7. Bra's Father Epilogue

**Author's Notes: This, the one-shot turned multi-chapter, is now finished. Thank you for reading, thanks for all those who reviewed, (and to the guest reviewers, who I never remembered to thank until now: THANK YOU!), and thanks for following and favoring... Just... Thanks :3**

**I may, or may not, have gotten too sentimental with the epilogue. I have warred with it for a few days, and decided to keep it as is, instead of changing. Vegeta may come off as out of character, but I argue that perhaps he is at a point where he has become an old sentimental warrior, not afraid to say what I wasn't sure if he would ever say, no matter what. In the end, I thought, "I like the line, this is fan fiction, and as a fan writer, I want him to say such." 3 *crosses fingers* **

**Special Thanks to Vegeta'sNo.1 for editing and general story advice.**

* * *

Reference:

Vegeta: 60's and beyond.

Trunks: mid 30's and beyond.

Bra: mid 20's and beyond.

Star Trek info of minor importance to the epilogue:

1)The Borg are not strictly an alien race, they are a collection (They in fact call themselves "The Collective") of millions of different species of aliens. I feel like they are best described as Zombies, as no one REALLY wants to become one, and it takes another "Borg" attacking you for you to become one, their slow and sickly skinned; though, unlike Zombies, Borg are super organized, are able to share thoughts, and are controlled by one person in charge, their "Queen".

2) Our Galaxy, the Milky Way Galaxy, is divided in Star Trek canon (I don't recall if real scientists do this) into four "quadrants"; just another organizational box to fit things into. The four "Quadrants" are as follows: Alpha (the quadrant that Earth resides in), Beta, Gamma, and Delta (where the Borg are said to have originated via Star Trek: Voyager). I'm just gonna go ahead and say, sure, Planet Vegeta is also in the Alpha Quadrant. :P

* * *

**Bra's Father**

There had been a few years after Bulma's death and before Vegeta's abdication where he had truly been all a protective father could be for his precious daughter and at times it was the most at peace he had ever been in, her presence a good memory of what he had and a gentle reminder of what he still worked for. Unconsciously, his gratitude for Bulma giving him both a son and daughter to remember her by had buoyed his spirits and strengthened his resolve to continue living, ruling, and looking after her brats.

He still visited her grave every few months, and though she did not talk back nor could smell her, just the mere thought of her presence seemed to do the trick. And when Bra had finally set her sights on her paternal heritage and came to visit, it seemed he still had the responsibilities to make sure she, and Trunks, managed to get their lives settled.

It was with no small amount of pride that Vegeta had escorted Bra to all the places he had taken Bulma (minus the romantic hot spring getaway...), taught her himself everything Trunks had learned from others, and had introduced her to all his subjects, with a strong hand on her shoulder, as: "Bra, my daughter!"

Not even Trunks had ever received such treatment, nor Bulma. In the presence of others, son and wife had been, respectively, ignored or called "Woman". Vegeta had done it to protect himself, to protect them; but for Bra he was catching up on lost time. His need to honor his daughter (and indirectly, Bulma) superseded any desire to close himself off towards her. Besides, while Bulma and Trunks had years to glean information and affection from Vegeta, Bra only had a few months for him to cram a lifetime of such little gestures.

Or so the original itinerary went. With a week or so away from her planned departure of Planet Vegeta, Bra had gone to her father to talk about possibly taking a permanent residence within the castle walls. After a night of careful considerations and planning, a new chapter had started for the Royal Saiyan Family.

Once Bra decided to extend her stay on her paternal home world, perhaps permanently, Vegeta toned down his affections towards her. Bra was slightly disappointed, but she had been more than surprised and happy with his earlier treatment, that the attitude that she had expected from the start didn't truly surprise her when it finally appeared.

Though her father acted coolly towards her, this was still the time that Bra found her calling, her desires, and her zest to live and to excel. She was just as smart as her mother and brother, but never before had she wanted to learn, nor sought out information.

If asked, she could not pin down her reasons for why a sudden interest arose for one culture, why it spoke to her, why she found something her mother always cringed against was exciting to her. On Earth, Bra had learned to fight from the strongest warriors Earth had to offer, but never had she had it so easy. Until arriving on Planet Vegeta, Bra never truly appreciated that Uncle Goku was not only the strongest on Earth and Vegeta, but preeeety much the whole of the universe. Training with him (while he was on Earth) had helped the other Z Warriors excel too. And that trickled down to those they trained in turn: including Bra.

And when she finally arrived on Vegeta, the first Saiyan to question her strength sorely regretted doing so. She had squealed in delight after defeating the "Elite" Warrior, (the sound of her girlish squeals dampening King Vegeta's pride in her for a small moment) and she could not wait for the next fight. Never on Earth had she won a fight so easily, so dominantly, with so much… fun! On Earth, her family never allowed her to fight outside their small group, and it had always been for Bra's future protection from jerks and bad guys. To add insult to this restrictive regiment, she rarely ever won. Now, however, Bra could finally realize the gulf that expanded between the Z Warriors and the average Saiyan Warrior, none of whom had the luck of training/fighting with Uncle Goku as apparently their King kept their top General at the palace whenever he was on Planet Vegeta (or with Chi Chi doing... couple-y stuff). Bra finally, happily, recognized her own worth as actually being a Z Warrior herself. Only King Vegeta, Prince Trunks and a few of their top generals could truly hand Princess Bra a defeat.

This new pleasure of fighting and winning excited Bra, and it was this perhaps that made her pride in her heritage puff up; that she was Saiyan, and was worthy of its blood flowing through her veins. In turn, every defeat she landed, with a handshake and smile afterwards, sometimes a bloody smile, gained her more admirers from her father's people. Her father's open fondness, at that time, certainly helped with her home welcoming.

As her pride bloomed in her fighting skills and her Saiyan blood, so too did her excitement to learn more of that which she only briefly learned about through high school and a few stories from Uncles Braddock and Goku. Actually being surrounded by hundreds in the capitol that were more than ready to share their stories and histories, after a spar of course, awoke Bra's love of history more than she ever had felt in school. Her father even mentioned that not even her mother, ever a consummate student, felt such a need to learn both official records and those told by random citizens.

Bra's place on Planet Vegeta was assured.

Brother and sister also took to each other, like two peas in a pod: bonding over parental stories, learning of the other's home planet and culture, meeting and hearing about extended family and friends on both sides. Vegeta might have worried about one or the other resenting time spent with a parent, but it was like Bulma mocked him from beyond the grave; his two offspring spent hours talking and laughing, usually at Vegeta's expense.

Bra had brought the wedding album Vegeta thought he had destroyed, showing Trunks more photos of his mother, and gleaning for herself another proof of the existence of her father's love as he actually blushed upon seeing the photos. Trunks showed Bra his Earth forged sword, underneath the Earthen Oak Tree, sharing his suspicions that it had been his mother who sent the sword, not Ambassador Bardock, ever since he learned of her existence. Again, the king was embarrassed to have to hear such sentimental drivel, and to confirm that, yes, it was indeed Bulma who originally sent the weapon.

Each had had their own marriages forged and strengthened over the years. Vegeta recalls Trunks and Pan traveling the stars, much as he and Bulma had once done. They were unofficial ambassadors, official students; learning even more then what staying at home could do. Pan was insatiable in her wanderlust; more than her desire to fight, was her desire to go on adventures. She easily captured and inspired Trunks' imagination, which hadn't had too much of an outlet since torturing General Nappa.

When they finally came home to Vegeta a few years later, it was only because they wanted King Vegeta to know his granddaughter, a purple haired, black eyed, squalling brat so appropriately named "Bulma". Holding her was a beautiful thing, a wondrous thing. Vegeta marveled at her, from her ki to her tail (yes, a tail! Fickle genes: no half breeds had had one since Gohan...). Bulma did not look like her namesake, but there was no doubting from whence her heritage came from. He shed a few tears, and wished for the real Bulma, HIS Bulma.

As a once successful, vicious king of a warrior race, Vegeta felt his time as ruler was nearing its end. He knew he was getting too sentimental, too foolish, to be able to continue leading an active people with an iron fist. No longer could he concentrate, nor did he want to, on important planetary affairs or interplanetary relations. His thoughts usually ran selfishly: towards home, with feelings of warmth and love. He felt lost, and the mere memory of Bulma was no longer good enough. He wanted out, he wanted to go back to his roots, which he barely recalls, and fight to the very end. That even if he were to remember his wife while battling, it would be a catalyst to be stronger. It would not, as it would if he stayed home, pull him into reminiscing and despair. As a Saiyan, it was unforgivable for him to just sit and be content, to wallow in the past and merely witness the present. He couldn't, wouldn't, do it.

King Vegeta waited long enough for Bra to get married, for her and Goten to have a first child of their own (a spikey haired boy who inherited some of the Son family looks, unfortunately), before announcing his desire to step down as ruler. He fought an exhibition fight, handing down the crown to Trunks. And then he watched Trunks and Bra fight for real, for keeps, to gain the honor of ruling Planet Vegeta.

And indeed, Bra had put up a good fight, Vegeta was proud to witness. But there really was no question as to the outcome; Vegeta was even more proud when Trunks did not apologize, but instead offered his sister a hearty slap on the back and a permanent position in his Cabinet of Advisers.

Vegeta also worked a short stint as an Adviser. However, it was, unbelievably, more boring than being king. ('HA!' He thought to the Bulma in his head, 'It really is good to be king...' ) By the time figurative drums of war started beating again a few short years later, King Trunks barely needed the assistance of the former king, and Vegeta was beyond restless and eager for a good fight.

Seemingly in the quiet of one night, Vegeta left. He became General of the Saiyan Forces, with hundreds of thousands of strong Saiyan warriors standing confidently behind him, and General Kakarot as Second-in-Command (naturally); but he left without pomp, without fanfare, without saying goodbye. Vegeta felt he had done all he could for both his children, and even for his grandchildren as far as leaving them with good impressionable memories, young as they were, and any "final goodbye" would just be redundant. He felt no sadness leaving them, felt no apprehension, no worry, and no remorse. Feeling such would be un-saiyan-like.

He recalled his own mother dying on the front lines, his father proud and happy to have known her; Vegeta hoped those he left behind would feel such as well. Just as he was happy and proud to have known Bulma, and her brats.

And if he should be remembered in the Halls of Saiyan History as the King who ushered in a new era of glory and prosperity, sire and predecessor of one of the most worthy and honorable of Kings, and father of the most beloved of Warrior Princess? So much the better.

**EPILOGUE**

_Trunks,_

_Hope you don't mind this old man being informal, but I've known you since before you were born, I will never get used to calling you "my king". I never even called your dad that..._

_Speaking of your father, I have great news! Vegeta has finally surpassed me. It was great buddy, you have no idea how proud I am of him, my oldest rival... as you know, we were out there in the Delta Quadrant hunting down the Borg Queen. You have read all the reports, so I will spare you the losses, the gains, so on and so forth. Everyone has been amazing, becoming greater fighters or dying with honor befitting those they leave behind, as any Saiyan would wish. The last battle however, the last win and honors, belongs to your father._

_The Borg, for being a race of emotionless drones, sure do like to use psychological warfare, especially the queen! In the final battle, she used hallucinogens to weaken the resolve of our warriors. For example, I am not ashamed to share with you, I saw visions of my family dying in front of me, of the most useless and horrifying deaths, and I became petrified. I will spare you further details... Vegeta was also similarly affected, and you can imagine as I did what he saw, as I heard him distinctly yell, "My Bulma!" However, he was then able to do what I could not do just yet, and break the hold the Borg Queen had on him._

_I can only guess he had already suffered the permanent death of a beloved and knew how to move on, whereas I still have Chi Chi, and am unprepared to loose her just yet..._

_Your father powered up to unimaginable levels, Trunks, single handedly battled the Borg Queen, and killed her._

_Not without cost, for he suffered fatal blows as well, which is why I write to you instead of leaving all this in a report. I held him as he lay dying, Trunks, and he looked at me with a bloody smile. He has never smiled in such a way at me, I was tempted to think he was still delusional from the drugs. However, I know he fought to the end as he wished: blood-lust raging and protecting those precious to him._

_He looked at me, clearly, and gave me his official final words. "I die a proud Saiyan, with no regrets."_

_Do not despair, Trunks. Cry in sadness, in sorrow, but do not feel as though it was worthless. He died honorably, protecting the Alpha Quadrant, but more importantly, you, your sister, and our families. I, of course, cried. I have lived too long on Earth as he always accused me of; he called me a "sentimental fool", and I choose to think he said it endearingly. (You know, he called me the same thing when I cried over Bulma's death.)_

_His gaze drifted away then, over my shoulder and who knows what he really saw there. He heaved a final breath, and his smile became soft. No "true" Saiyan would ever smile in such a way, I have learned from your dad, except in private and with their beloved; sentimental fool that I am, I swear he was looking at a vision of your mother. His real final words, which I'm sure he wasn't truly aware of and that he would punch me for daring to repeat a perceived weakness, were: "I'm coming home... Bulma."_

_Tell Chi Chi that I, too, am coming home._

_Your battle buddy,_

_\- Uncle Goku_


End file.
